


All I Ever Wanted

by princessrosberg



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Light Porn, M/M, Rejection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessrosberg/pseuds/princessrosberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything Max has ever wanted has been right there in front of him. But the world will just not let him have it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Ever Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> This is angsty, not so much in the love way but in a tone of other ways too. TW for eating disorders, it's not graphic but i want to put it just in case. Enjoy :)

When Max pulls his nomex gloves over his hands, feeling the familiar material brush over his skin for the first time in months, a spark seems to ignite inside him. He's 18 now, he feels more mature than last year, that he can just about grasp the championship between his fingers. It's a silly thought really - he knows that it's going to be Lewis or Nico or Sebastian - standing on the podium at Abu Dhabi with the championship trophy between their hands, but it doesn't knock his hope. There's talks about the team, about Daniel's contract and a vacant space in the glistening number 3 Red Bull for 2017. Max tells himself he's going to be in that car next year, whatever it takes he'll be there, winning championships for them and making Red Bull Racing great again. He's sure of it. However the season doesn't start off great, not as great as he wanted it to. Melbourne is only the start of bad things to come; sure the qualifying was good, he'd started on the 3rd row, behind the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers, but things only went downhill from there.  When he thinks about the race, what happened between him and Carlos, how he'd been so abusive about him to his engineer, how he'd let the anger take over and compromise both their performances - he regrets it. He doesn't say that out loud though. 

* * *

  
"Why?"   
Carlos finds him after the race. It's 1am in the morning and he wants to get back to his hotel room and order room service - _fuck the diet_ he thinks. Carlos' eyes are red, he can tell the Spaniard has been crying, that's why he was absent at the team party. He tries to push past Carlos, to hide away in his room and pretend none of this happened, that him and Carlos are fine and that they'll fall back into their usual playful attitude. But it's not fine.   
"Max, don't avoid me"   
Carlos pleads with the younger, and Max gives in. He always gives in for Carlos and his soft brown eyes.   
"I-I don't know"   
Is the only answer he can think of, because it's true - he /doesn't/ know why he did it. Carlos sighs, rests his head against the back of Max's door, and drops his gaze away from him. Max doesn't know what to do, he doesn't want to have tension and hurt between him and Carlos, not like Lewis and Nico, so he does the only thing he can think of. He kisses Carlos. He doesn't really remember the rest of the night when he wakes up the next morning with the bed empty next to him, or maybe he does remember it, and doesn't want to think it happened. The love bight is stark red against his neck when he glances at himself in the mirror, the scratches still red and streaky down his back. 

* * *

  
Carlos avoids him when they get to Bahrain, only around the garage and team when he really has to be. Max pretends it doesn't hurt him that he's off with Daniil most of the time. Franz seems to notice the change and approaches Max after FP2.   
"What's happened between you and Carlos?"   
He says, and he tries to sound comforting and that he cares, but Max knows he's only bothered about his problems if they're going to affect the race results. He shakes his head and smiles at his boss.   
"Nothing, we're okay"   
Is his answer, and he brushes his way past Franz to change into something more comfortable. He grabs his ipod and headphones and heads out onto the track. He doesn't want to talk to the media, he knows they'll only pry about what happened in Australia, why him and Carlos seem so closed off to each other. The air is still warm, the floodlights are excerpting heat onto the track and even in his t-shirts and shorts he can still feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. There's a light breeze out, it blows the surrounding sand onto the track and some into Max's eyes. He rubs the back of his palm against his irritated eyes, wiping away the water. He blinks a few times - there's no sand in his eyes, he just didn't want to admit to himself that he was crying. 

* * *

  
Things start to look up in China. Carlos is back to his happy self, posing for photographs with his hand on Max's waist, their shoulders touching together. He doesn't mention what happened in Australia, neither does Carlos. They do the interviews, the promotions and ads for Sky and Channel 4. He finds himself at a restaurant in downtown shanghai; Lewis had suggested they all meet up and have a chill dinner before the stress of the weekend comes. Max ends up between the two Red Bull drivers, Carlos on the opposite side of the table. It's fun, they all laugh together and forget about tomorrow, about qualifying and the race. Max happily eats his food, it's some strange Chinese dish he can't pronounce but it's nice and he'd _definitely_ have it again. He notices the way Lewis and Nico are together now they're away from the track, Lewis laughs at all his jokes, Nico's eyes never leave him and he pretends he doesn't notice Lewis' foot rubbing against Nico's leg underneath the table. They spend 20 minutes deciding on who pays the bill, Lewis had offered to pay first, but Sebastian had said he wanted to and in the end they split the bill. Max waits outside for Carlos, the air is colder now and his thin Toro Rosso jacket isn't shielding him from the chill. Ten minutes pass and Daniel comes up to him with an apologetic smile.   
"He's already left with Daniil, you can walk back with me if you want?"   
Max nods slightly. He likes Daniel, he's kind and happy and always smiling, but he wished it was Carlos by his side; he wanted to talk about Australia, about the kiss.   
"Is there something going on between you and Carlos? You seem like you're avoiding each other"   
Daniel breaks the silence after a few minutes, glancing towards Max as they wait for the tube to arrive.   
"No there’s nothing going on, don't worry about it Dan"   
He says. It's a lie though, because /everything/ is going on. 

* * *

  
The next few races play out the same, Lewis ends up winning Russia and Daniel /finally/ gets a podium. His own results aren't overly exciting, he finishes 7th and Carlos 9th. He congratulates Carlos when they go in for weighing, slapping his hand against his teammates back and squeezing his hand in comfort. He takes his helmet off, gets his weight and leaves them in the garage before he's being pushed into the interview paddock. They don't ask much, just the usual /Is the car handling okay?/ and /Do you think you can do better in the races to come?/. His answers are always the same. When he heads back to the motorhome early, skipping out in the drinks and celebrations, the last person he thought he'd see waiting outside was Daniil.   
"Um, are you alright?"   
Max says. He doesn't speak to Daniil much, they talk on the grid occasionally, or when they pass by each other during the break in Monaco, but nothing more.   
"Can you let me in, apparently my card doesn't work anymore"   
He replies with a small laugh, spinning the tattered piece of plastic around in his fingers.   
"Yeah sure, are you here for Carlos?"   
Max grabs his own card from his pocket, scanning it through the reader and the glass doors slide open.   
"Yeah, we're going out for drinks, you're welcome to come if you'd like?"   
His offer seems forced, so Max shakes his head with a smile.   
"Thanks for the offer, but I wouldn't want to gate crash your date"   
Daniil blushes and shakes his head frantically.   
"It's not a date it's just-"   
Carlos appears in the doorway before he can reply, a checked shirt clinging to him and the smell of way too strong aftershave.   
"I'm ready to go"   
Daniil smiles, his hand clasps around Carlos' as they head out of the track. Max's heart feels heavy. 

* * *

  
He's in Canada when he sees something he knows he shouldn't. He wanted to find Daniel and catch up, he's not spoken to the Australian for a while and wanted to grab a drink with him, talk about what's happening with Carlos and ask for some help and advice. However when he heard Daniel's voice in the empty garage, he did not expect to see Sebastian Vettel pressing kisses against his neck. He makes a sound of surprise and Sebastian rips away from the Australian, the two look at Max with worried expressions before he speaks, a smile across his face.   
"Don't worry"   
He says.   
"I'm not going to go blabbing"   
Sebastian’s shoulders drop, Daniel heads over to him and pats his shoulder in thanks.   
"Although I did want to talk to Daniel, if you're not...busy"   
Sebastian laughs slightly, he kisses Daniel's cheek as he leaves and Daniel smiles back at Max.   
"What's up little one?"   
"Please don't call me that, and can we get a coffee or something?"   
"Of course"   
They end up in a quaint coffee shop in one of the side streets, the customers are speaking in quick French and none of them seem to realise who they are. Daniel pays for the drinks, he gets a plain coffee and Max gets a hot chocolate, with marshmallows and all.   
"So what's wrong?"   
Daniel says, breaking his chocolate chip cookie in half and passing some to Max. Max sighs.   
"It's Carlos"   
Daniel smiles slightly, almost as if he /knew/ that was the problem, and waits for Max to continue.   
"Ever since Australia he's been more closed off to me, he always seems to be with Daniil no matter when I try to find him and I don't know why, I figured you'd have some answers since he's your teammate"   
Daniel sighs, takes a drink from his coffee and Max notices the silver band glistening on his left hand.   
"There's a reason why Carlos and Daniil are so close, but it's not my place to say Max, maybe you should ask Carlos about it"   
Max bites his lip. He doesn't want to shout at Daniel in the coffee shop but he _really_ did want some answers. He shakes his head slightly and smiles again.   
"So, you and Sebastian, what's happening there ay?" 

* * *

  
He finds out in Hungary when Carlos approaches him after qualifying.   
"He's your ex?"   
Max says, surprise evident in his voice. He runs his hand through his sweat ridden hair, starting to pull the race suit away from his body.   
"Yeah, I should've told you sooner"   
Max shakes his head, pulling his suit down to his waist, his fingers scratching at the fireproofs  that are drenched in sweat and sticking to his skin. He watches as Carlos pulls off his boots, sliding his race suit away from his body until he's left in the bring white fireproofs. Max can't help himself, the white contrasts so perfectly against Carlos dark skin and he finds his eyes drifting downwards. Carlos doesn’t seem to notice though, his fingers curl around his shirt and he pulls it over his head with a relieved sigh. Sweat slides down his back and over his shoulder blades. Max shakes his head, pulling his own clothes away from his body. He turns around, his back to Carlos to grab his shirt, but Carlos’ fingers rub against his shoulder and he flinches slightly at the touch.   
“Did i do that?”  
His voice is quiet, and Max is confused for a moment at what he’s talking about. He looks over his shoulder and tries to look at what Carlos was talking about. His fingers still rub against his skin, and he soon realizes it’s the small scar on the top of his back, the one Carlos left after their night together.   
“Yeah, it was from Australia”   
Carlos is quiet for a moment, his eyes still on the scar. It happens so quick, Max doesn’t know which of the two initiated it, he’d say it was Carlos and not want to admit it, and Carlos would say it was him. His fingers curl around Carlos’ back to pull him closer, their lips work frantically against each other, almost like the closes is still not enough. Carlos’ hand grabs at his cock through the thin material, his hands are warm and slick with sweat as he squeezes and rubs against Max. They get more needy - Max almost tears the material when he rips both his own and Carlos’ fireproofs off - their hands scratch against each other, leaving red marks on their skin. Max comes inside of Carlos with a cry of his name, Carlos following a heartbeat later.   
“I love you”   
He whispers the words against Carlos’ skin before he can stop himself. 

* * *

  
“I’ve signed a contract for Red Bull”   
It’s Singapore when Max first loses the thing he wanted. Carlos had been distant from him the past few races, avoiding him more than usual and spending a lot more time in the Red Bull garage. They’d got together a few times since, but it was always the same; ordering take away, playing games before ending the night with sex. Max never failed to tell Carlos he loved him - he’d never get a reply back.   
“What?”   
Max says, almost stunned at the statement. He’d had his own talks with Christian, he was so _sure_ that he was going to get signed for the next season after it finally went public about Daniel moving to Ferrari. But Carlos is the one with the signed contract, not him.   
“We’d sorted it before Silverstone, i just didn’t want to tell you”   
Max thinks about the talks around that time, of what Christian had said to the media and in the press conferences.   
_We are in talks with a driver currently_ he’d said with a grin, and Max could only assume that it was him. Carlos has performed better this season though, now a huge 30 point gap between the two of them. Max smiles, pulling his friend - or whatever he was - into a tight hug. He blinks back the tears, fights the urge to punch the Spaniard in the face and whispers a congratulations to him. He cries himself to sleep that night, the thoughts of the race the last thing on his mind. 

* * *

  
He stops eating by Japan, blaming the late night pizzas and extra cookies for his lacking performance this year. It works for qualifying, he pushes both himself and the car to the absolute limit and ends up 4th on the grid behind Lewis. He ignores the dizziness he feels going into the race when his team push his car onto the grid. He stays in the garage for as long as he can, splashing water on his face over and over again. His stomach is demanding for food, he wants to grab the banana that’s by the side but his brain tells him _no, you’re going to get fat again_ , so he resists the temptation and heads onto the grid. He brushes the media off, his PR telling them to leave him be in the nicest way possible as he follows Max around with an umbrella to shield him from the sun. He hops into the car, his eyes on the lights above him and the gap between Nico and Lewis, the one he’s going to take the moment the lights drop green. The engines roar to life around him, he passes by Sebastian on the first corner and stays behind Lewis for most of the race, in 3rd place, in a _podium place._ He pits on lap 35 to get his final set of tyres, Sebastian had retired so the threat from behind had disappeared, all he had to do was stay behind Lewis and manage his tyres and he’d be on that podium, spraying champagne and laughing with the Mercedes drivers. However the hunger from before suddenly hits him, he’s not eaten in over 24 hours, his water bottle was empty by lap 20 and the heat is just making everything that much more worse. His vision starts to blur in the corners as he drives down the pit lane, his head is pounding from the sun and he can feel the effects taking their toll. His pit crew change the tyres, but Max doesn’t set back off, instead trying to catch his breath before everything comes too much and he passes out in the car. 

* * *

  
It’s already the end of the season, the incident in Japan long forgotten about. He’d woken up in a Japanese hospital with two nurses staring down at him with masks across their faces. _Only heatstroke,_ they’d said and Max was on his way out within 4 hours. He knew it wasn’t just that, he knew it was because he’d dropped down to below 8 stone - that he’d stopped eating. But it doesn’t matter because the car is quicker because of it and all he wants to do is prove that he can be a world champion, that he’s not some child. Nico’s the one holding the trophy atop the step in Abu Dhabi, Lewis in 2nd and the biggest surprise, Daniel in 3rd. They say their goodbyes to the team, Carlos hugs him and says he’s going to miss having him as a teammate but that his new one is going to be even better. Max doesn’t really listen, he’s already lost his dream to go to Red Bull, and he can feel Carlos slipping through his fingertips, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He presses a kiss against Carlos’ cheek and can only stand by and watch him leave the airport, Daniil unsurprisingly following behind. Max flies home alone. 

* * *

  
The 2017 season starts and it’s worse than Max could even have thought. The media and team suddenly don’t care about him, their attention turned to his new teammate - Mitch. Max doesn’t mind it at first, Mitch is new and incredibly charming so he isn’t surprised that they pay attention. But _he’s_ still Toro Rosso’s number one driver. 5 races in Max is at the hospital again. He’d passed out at a team event, Mitch had caught him before he smacked his head against the floor and they’d called an ambulance in a panic. _Malnutrition_ \- the doctor had said. Max had woken up with a splitting headache and a feeding tube in his nose. Mitch is asleep by his side, his head against the bed and hand loosely curled around Max’s. The flowers on his bedside table only irritated his nose more and if they weren’t from Daniel he’d of thrown them out the window. However it’s the letter with his full name written in fancy cursive ink that draws his attention. _Max Emilian Verstappen._ He rips it open, ignoring the needle from that drip in his hand, even if it is digging into his skin and hurting like hell. He scans over the words, they’re all too formal and drawn out, but his eyes do stop on a certain phrase, just before Bernie Eccleston’s signature is at the bottom - _It would be in our best interests for you to terminate the contract held with Scuderia Toro Rosso for the 2017 season._ And just like that he loses everything; the seat at Red Bull, the love of his life, his chance to race alongside Mitch, but most of all, his chance to _win_ the championship. He lets out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wake the boy beside him and the tiredness soon starts to take over, his eyes slide shut and he squeezes Mitch’s hand.   
_Maybe all this wasn’t worth it._


End file.
